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“What about these ones?” Brody asks, towering over me where I sit on a short, cushioned bench.
A giggle builds in my throat at the sight of him in front of a tall shelf of boots, a baseball cap tugged low over his brow and a pair of large-rimmed sunglasses hiding his pretty eyes. Paired with his tight-fitting Levi’s, a dark brown set of boots, and a heavy Carhartt jacket, the glasses throw off the rough and tough look a bit. It’s a testament to his good looks that he can still pull it off. Though, I doubt he isn’t capable of pulling off just about anything.
“Anna? Do you like these ones?” he repeats, watching me with a casual smirk.
I clear my throat and ignore his cheekiness. “They’re cute.”
He’s dangling a pair of reddish-brown boots with a square toe and black swirls along the sides. They’re not completely my style, but we’ve gone through at least a dozen different boots already, and none have spoken to me.
“I don’t think I like the square toes. Or red,” I add, attempting to help narrow down the search before we wind up walking out of here with our hands empty.
Brody sets the boots back and then faces me again, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Gripping his hips in a wide, powerful stance, he dips his chin. “Be right back.”
I fold my hands in my lap and watch him leave, leaning forward to peek past one of the rows of shelving just to catch a glance at his ass. The store is quiet today, but I have no clue if that’s out of the ordinary for a place like this. I’d bet it’s not. I doubt cowboys are bothering much with gossip when they’re shopping for new boots.
Either way, I’m relieved that we haven’t had to avoid many shoppers. Brody’s disguise isn’t exactly state-of-the-art. It wouldn’t take much for someone to recognize him despite it, so it means a lot to me that he risked that for me today.
I wiggle my toes in the thick wool socks he brought in with us—another one of his considerate gestures that sent my belly flapping. Road trips have never been my favourite, but with Brody, I think I could get used to them. Driving the same roads I did the day before while coming home from the airport took on an entirely different look sitting beside him today. The two and a half hours weren’t boring or exhausting. They were the complete opposite. Lively and full of laughter and thoughtful conversation.
I think it’s safe to assume at this point that most things would be different with Brody by my side.
“Okay, give these ones a try.”
Twisting to find Brody headed toward me with a dark brown box in his hands, I untwist my fingers and splay them flat on my thighs.
“Where’d you find these ones?” I ask.
He winks, flipping open the lid for me to look inside. “That’s a secret. Grab one and take a look.”
As I trail my eyes over the boots, my breath catches in my throat. Slowly, I reach toward them and pull the first from the box. It’s soft in my hands, with a curved toe and a small heel. The light brown grooves in the slightly darker leather are in the shape of sunflowers, and I look at Brody, catching his soft, relaxed features and wishing I could see his eyes.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur.
“Try ’em on.”
I do instantly, sliding the first boot onto my foot before greedily reaching for the next and repeating the motions. The fit is snug with the wool socks but not too tight. Brody kneels down in front of me, running his hands up and down my calf and ankle as if to check the fit, but I think he’s just using it as an excuse to touch me. The thought has me feeling incredibly giddy. Horny too. But that’s nothing new.
“Stand up and see how they feel,” he instructs.
I alternate between leaning on my feet and pushing forward on my toes before walking a small path back and forth on the carpet. “They feel good. I love them.”
“Love them enough to wear them often?”
“Enough to never go anywhere without wearing them.”
He stares at me for a moment, head lowering before rising again, and I can’t help but push on my toes to pull his glasses off. A full-body shiver racks through me when I finally see what he’s been hiding behind them—a heat that licks the flames already building between my legs. That taunts it, begging it to come out and play.
I’m too damn weak-willed for this because it takes all of five seconds staring at those sexy blue eyes before I’m poking the bear. “What do you think? Do you like them?”
“I’m thinkin’ that I want to toss you over my shoulder and haul you back out to my truck. I’m thinkin’—” His large steps eat the distance between us. “That for some fuckin’ reason, I got lucky enough to call you mine.”
I try and steady my breathing, but it’s a useless effort. “I’ve never been carried over someone’s shoulder before.”
A slow lift of his brow. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”
“Well, if we’re done here, then we can leave. Go back to town and have dinner.”
“Where would we have dinner? Out?” he asks, skirting around the question we both know he wants to ask.
